


Been Alone Here

by GotTheSilver



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Addiction, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Getting Back Together, M/M, Past Drug Addiction, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:47:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28408722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GotTheSilver/pseuds/GotTheSilver
Summary: “I didn’t know you lived here,” Tony says before Steve can jump to conclusions. Not that Steve would. Or, at least, the Steve he used to know wouldn’t. “I retired, and Rhodey, he picked the place without me knowing, if it’s a problem, then—”“Why would it be a problem?”“Because I was an asshole.”Steve smiles, a soft curve of his mouth that Tony was never able to resist. “You had a problem,” Steve says softly. “I don’t blame you.”
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 22
Kudos: 250
Collections: 2020 Captain America/Iron Man Holiday Exchange





	Been Alone Here

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cap Iron Man Community](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Cap+Iron+Man+Community).



> title stolen from velvet revolver - fall to pieces.
> 
> see end notes for extra warnings.

Of all the people Tony thinks might turn up at his door, his ex is not one of them. “Steve? What are you—” Tony pauses, taking in the sight of Steve standing at his door, noticing the uniform, and he shakes his head in understanding. “The calendar,” he says. “Mrs Davies said that—hi.”

“Hi,” Steve says, his face like he’s seen a ghost, which. Fair. “Tony, I thought—”

“Not dead,” Tony says. “Not for lack of trying, but not dead.”

“You look good,” Steve says, and Tony can hear the unspoken ‘better than when I last saw you’ in that simple sentence.

“I didn’t know you lived here,” Tony says before Steve can jump to conclusions. Not that Steve would. Or, at least, the Steve he used to know wouldn’t. “I retired, and Rhodey, he picked the place without me knowing, if it’s a problem, then—”

“Why would it be a problem?”

“Because I was an asshole.”

Steve smiles, a soft curve of his mouth that Tony was never able to resist. “You had a problem,” Steve says softly. “I don’t blame you.”

“You should,” Tony says honestly. “I would. Look, I—do you _want_ me to buy a calendar or would that be really awkward?”

“Oh,” Steve says, like he’s forgotten the reason he’s there. He looks down at the calendar in his hands and shrugs. “You don’t have to.”

“Are you shirtless in it?”

“You’ll have to buy it to find out,” Steve says, winking at Tony.

“Ever the tease,” Tony says, a smile creeping on his face. “Sure, sign me up for five, I’ll send them to Rhodey.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Steve says. “Just because we—”

“Had an awful breakup where you found me convulsing on the bathroom floor because I’d done too much coke?”

“I mean, I wasn’t going to put it quite like that,” Steve says, raising an eyebrow. “But yeah.”

Tony sticks his hands in his hoodie pockets. “Call it making amends. Besides, I can't go ticking off the local firefighters if I’m going to keep building things in the shed.”

“You said you retired,” Steve says, a confused look on his face.

“From being CEO,” Tony clarifies. “Passed that onto Pepper before I went into rehab, should’ve done it sooner than that but, well. You really didn’t see it all in the news?”

Steve ducks his head. “It was—I always hoped you were doing well, but I—” Steve breaks off and looks back up, meeting Tony’s eyes. “I was scared. I didn’t want to find out on the news that you’d died.”

“I get it,” Tony says, only just stopping himself from reaching out to try and comfort Steve. “But it wouldn’t have been your fault if that had happened, you know that, right? No one could’ve helped me, not even you. I loved you, but I—fuck, whatever happened would’ve been my fault.”

“Sure,” Steve says. “But it would’ve still hurt. A lot. I wanted to call you sometimes, but if you’d been high, I would’ve wanted to come back to try and help you, and that—”

“Hey,” Tony says, taking a few steps forward and touching Steve’s arm. “It’s okay. A lot of people walked out on me, and I deserved it. Sometimes I think Pepper only stuck around because I paid her.”

“And Rhodey?”

“Oh, Rhodey’s a lost cause,” Tony says with a smile. “Sometimes I think he enjoys pulling me out of scrapes.”

“Or he cares about you,” Steve says. “You’re easy to love.”

“I—” Tony breaks off, aware he’s still resting a hand on Steve’s arm, and he pulls it away, sticking it back in his pocket. “No one’s ever said that before.”

“Well, it’s the truth,” Steve says. “You were.”

Tony swallows. “Were?”

“What?”

“You said ‘were’,” Tony says, his cheeks heating up as he rocks back on his heels. “And I don’t want to be pushy—”

“Sure you don’t,” Steve says.

“But,” Tony continues, eyeing Steve. “You said ‘were’, and I kind of want to know, since you’re here on my doorstep and didn’t run away screaming when you saw me. I just—you were always the person I wanted to reach out to and was too scared to, and somehow we’ve ended up in the same place, and holy fuck stop me talking—”

“It could be an ‘are’,” Steve interrupts. “You are easy to love. If that’s—I don’t want to presume—”

“Presume away,” Tony says quickly. “Please.”

An easy smile crosses Steve’s face, like it used to on the days Tony was with him and sober, the days when Tony thought he could stay clean if he had Steve. That was always doomed to fail, Tony knows that now. He had to get clean for him, not for someone else, even if that someone else had been the love of his life.

Steve’s attention is caught by someone yelling over at him, and he rolls his eyes, waving a hand in the air before he looks back at Tony. “Apparently I’m behind schedule,” he says. “But I—if I’m presuming, could I come over tonight?”

“You’re not on shift?”

“I’m on my 48,” Steve says. “And I’d like to spend some time with you.”

Tony’s taken back to the first time Steve had said that to him, and he knows by the look on Steve’s face that the phrasing was intentional, which sparks something in him that’s been dead for a long time. “Yeah,” he says. “I’d like that.”

“Okay,” Steve says, running a hand through his hair. “I—I should go.”

“Calendars to sell,” Tony says. “Sure. So I’ll see you at—”

“Seven?”

“Seven works. I’ll make dinner.”

“I’ll bring—not wine,” Steve says with a grimace. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Tony says easily. “See you tonight.”

They stare at each other a moment longer before Steve shakes his head and turns, calling goodbye over his shoulder as he walks away. If Tony stands there a little longer than he should watching Steve walk away, then that’s between him and everyone else on the street, apparently, judging by the crowd by the firetruck. Tony notices one of Steve’s buddies say something to him, and Steve looks back at Tony, lifting a hand in a wave that Tony returns awkwardly before he closes the door.

“Fuck,” Tony says, his heart thudding against his chest. “Dinner. Okay. I can do dinner. I think I can do dinner. JARVIS?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Have we got what we need for chicken parm?”

“We do.”

“Okay,” Tony says, more to himself than JARVIS. “Old favourites it is.”

*

Tony’s had a grand total of one visitor since moving to town, and that’s only because Mrs Davies insisted on bringing him a casserole when she saw him working on the house. Which, to be fair, had been very welcome considering Tony had forgotten about dinner while getting JARVIS wired into the house. Tony’s not used to being social now he’s sober, truth be told it’s half the reason he ended up in rehab, and his rusty social skills being put to the test by Steve of all people has to be some kind of cosmic joke.

Straightening up from shoving a box of cables in a corner of his office, Tony pauses at the sight of a photo on top of another box he’s yet to unpack, and he picks it up, running a finger across the glass. It’s he and Steve almost twelve years ago, the sun’s shining on them, Steve’s kissing his cheek, and Tony—he looks happy. He was happy, he remembers that. He’d flown them both out to Malibu for two weeks and they’d spent that day on the stretch of private beach in front of his house. Tony hadn’t been high, and it—. It had been good. Tony had almost felt normal. But then that weekend he’d had to meet up with an associate and he’d ended up making excuses for standing Steve up while doing coke in Vegas like the worst kind of cliche.

He’d loved Steve, so much. He really had. Steve had been the one spot of goodness in the chaos, and he’d been so determined not to drag Steve into the darkest parts of his life. He’s not sure how much he’d succeeded, but he could at least live in some state of denial until the day Steve found him on the bathroom floor.

Putting the photo back, Tony sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. He’d wanted to apologise to Steve, to make sure Steve knew it wasn’t his fault, that it had all been Tony, but he’d been too scared. After rehab, he was still so fragile that if Steve had rejected him, Tony might’ve dealt with that by going nose first into a pile of coke. So he never contacted him, as much as he’d wanted to.

“Sir? It’s 6:30,” JARVIS says, cutting into Tony’s thoughts.

“Fuck,” Tony says. “Do I need to shower?”

“You showered this morning.”

“Right, I did, yep,” Tony says, wiping his hands on his legs. “So. Clean clothes. Non sweatpants clothes. I can do this.”

“I have no doubt.”

“Thanks, J.”

By the time there’s a tentative knock at the door, Tony’s changed into jeans and a nicer shirt than he wore for Mrs Davies, and he steadies himself before walking over to the door. Tony opens it to find Steve standing there with a bunch of sunflowers in his hands, jeans clinging to his thighs, a soft looking henley stretched over his shoulders, and all Tony wants to do is jump him.

He doesn’t, he has some social skills as rusty as they are, and instead he steps back, gesturing for Steve to come in. “Hi,” he says. “You brought me flowers.”

Steve shrugs before closing the door. “It’s not like I could bring wine, but I remembered you liked sunflowers, I hope you still do.”

“I do,” Tony says, taking them when Steve holds them out. “Thank you. I’m sure I have something that can work as a vase somewhere around here.”

Steve laughs. “Now that sounds familiar.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Tony says, looking around for something to put them in before giving up with a sigh. “JARVIS? Got anything I can use as a vase?”

“There’s a jug in the cupboard to your left,” JARVIS says. “And may I say it’s good to see you again, Lieutenant Rogers.”

“Thank you, JARVIS,” Steve says, a fond smile on his face. “It’s Captain Rogers, now.”

“You got promoted?”

“It’s been eight years, Tony,” Steve says gently. “It didn’t happen until I moved here.”

“Why did you move here?” Tony asks, his curiosity piqued.

“Ma died,” Steve says, looking uncomfortable. “There wasn’t much of a reason to stick around in New York after that.”

“Shit,” Tony says, his grip on the flowers tightening. “She died? I didn’t—fuck. Steve, I’m sorry. I should’ve been there.”

“Yeah,” Steve says simply. “You should’ve been.”

Tony nods in acceptance, knowing it’s true. That if he’d been less of a wreck, less caught up in his own shit, he would’ve been there to look after Steve, to say goodbye to Sarah in a way she deserved. Sarah had never been anything but loving towards him, even when she looked at him like she knew what he was doing to himself and wanted to call him out on it. She never did, though, not even when he was visibly coming down, and there’s a churning in his gut at the knowledge that he’ll never get to talk to her again.

“I’m going to, uh. Get these in water,” Tony says, turning on his heel and walking into the kitchen. Running the water, he rubs a hand over his face before he fills the jug. Setting it down on the table, he unwraps the flowers and methodically trims the ends, placing them one by one in the jug. Taking even breaths, Tony pulls on all he learnt in therapy and concentrates on the task in front of him, being present in the moment even with the emotions that threaten to overwhelm him.

When he’s done, he looks up to see Steve standing there, just watching him curiously.

“I am sorry,” Tony says, turning the jug around on the table until he’s satisfied. “For what I missed. For what I did. I thought a lot, after getting out, about finding you, but—”

“Why didn’t you?”

Tony shrugs. “I was scared. And I wasn’t ready to face rejection from someone I loved.”

“I never would’ve rejected you,” Steve says, taking a few steps towards Tony. “I mean, I was angry, I couldn't help that after—” Steve breaks off, his hands clenched in loose fists by his side. “There were so many times I wanted to call you. When Ma started going downhill, when I was thinking of leaving the city. When I moved here and didn’t know anyone and was terrified of the extra responsibility. Tony, you were the _only_ person I wanted to call.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t call because I didn’t want to be told you were dead, or have you pick up and laugh at me,” Steve says, shaking his head, a wry smile on his face. “Some days I wasn’t sure which would be worse.”

“That’s fair,” Tony says, his hands holding onto the back of a chair. He can’t say that wouldn’t have been the outcome. If Steve had called at the wrong time, when Tony was blitzed out of his mind, then it’s entirely possible Tony would’ve laughed at him. Would’ve been crueler than Steve ever would’ve deserved. “I’m sorry for that as well.”

“You don’t have to keep apologising,” Steve says. “I’m not—this isn’t to make you feel guilty. I don’t want you to feel guilty, I just—I don’t know.” Steve laughs softly, looking down at the floor for a moment before he fixes his gaze on Tony. “How long do you have?”

“Three years in September,” Tony says, not pretending like he doesn’t know what Steve is asking. “Sometimes it feels like forever, sometimes it feels like no time at all.”

“But you’re—you have a support system? Even here?”

“I do. There’s meetings just outside town, and my sponsor is, well. She’s rude and cranky, but that’s exactly what I need.”

A smile breaks out on Steve’s face and he nods, his eyes lighting up. “That does sound exactly like what you need,” he says. “I’m glad, Tony, I really am.”

“Thank you,” Tony says, the words sounding awkward in his mouth. “So. Do you want to keep hashing over my problems, or do you want dinner?”

“You cooked?”

“Yeah,” Tony says. “Part of the whole, learning to be a real human thing.”

“What did you make?” Steve asks.

“Chicken parm,” Tony says, letting go of the chair and walking over to the stove. “I need to get the spaghetti on, if you still eat carbs, but otherwise—”

“You— _Tony_.”

Tony pauses, the spaghetti spilling into the water with a loud rush of noise. Putting the box back on the counter, he turns to see Steve looking at him through his lashes. “It’s not a—”

“It is,” Steve says, taking a few cautious steps towards Tony. “You know it is.”

“Yeah,” Tony says quietly. “I guess it is. I can make something different, if you want.”

“Don’t you dare,” Steve says. He’s right in front of Tony now, so close that Tony could count every freckle on his face. “Tony, I—” Steve sighs, his hand coming up to cup Tony’s cheek. “Stop me if you—”

And that’s all Steve gets out before he’s kissing Tony, his lips tentatively pressing against Tony’s mouth in the briefest of kisses, and Tony swears his brain shorts out. Before he can even react, before he can touch Steve, return the kiss, do _something_ , Steve’s pulled back. Tony stares at him, the bubbling of the spaghetti the only sound aside from their breathing.

“You kissed me,” Tony says.

“I did.”

“Do it again.”

“Tony—”

“Do it again.”

Steve does, and this time it’s not tentative at all, it’s a kiss like Tony remembers it, with Steve giving everything he has. Tony slides his hands around Steve’s waist, trying to pull him closer, and suddenly all he wants to do is wrap his legs around Steve and make him walk them to the nearest flat surface. Instead, he breaks the kiss, his hands resting on Steve’s hips, and Tony sighs. “Fuck,” he breathes out. “I didn’t mean—”

“I’m not sorry I did that,” Steve says, his mouth brushing over Tony’s as he speaks.

“I’m not sorry you did either,” Tony says, low and intimate. “But—”

“There it is.”

“Steve, come on.”

“Yeah,” Steve sighs, closing his eyes and tipping his forehead until it’s resting against Tony’s. “I just missed you so much.”

“Me too,” Tony says, his fingers rubbing a small circle against Steve’s hip. “I missed you a lot.”

“Okay. So. Dinner?”

“Yeah,” Tony says in a hoarse voice, detangling himself from Steve. “I can do that.”

*

“Where did you end up for rehab?” Steve asks as he washes the dishes, having insisted on doing so since Tony cooked. “If you want to tell me.”

“No, I—it’s fine,” Tony says, watching the coffee filter through the machine. “It was a private clinic in New England. Quiet. Small. Which is what I needed.”

“And you—I mean—it was your choice?”

“It was,” Tony says, looking up from the machine. “Some people think there’s a big come to Jesus moment after hitting rock bottom, but that’s bullshit. At least, it was bullshit for me,” he says, grabbing some mugs and pouring the coffee in. “I hit rock bottom so many times I could’ve racked up frequent flyer miles. I—I had to make the choice for myself. Which I did, eventually.”

“What made you make the choice?” Steve asks, rinsing off the dishes.

“It was simple,” Tony says. “I woke up one day and I hated myself. Realised that I had no one I could call who would just be there for me.” He pauses, not entirely sure how to say what he wants to say. “My last weekend high was really bad. I still don’t know what happened, or what I did. It’s—there’s hazy flashes but—. Honestly, half of me expects to get hit with an arrest warrant still because I just don’t remember anything.”

“Tony—”

“I’m not saying that for sympathy,” Tony says, picking up his mug. “I just want you to know, that’s something I’m making peace with.”

“How’s that going?”

“Some days are better than others,” Tony says with a half smile as he watches Steve dry his hands with a dishcloth. “I don’t have any milk for the coffee.”

“It’s okay,” Steve says, ducking his head, a light flush on his cheeks. “I kind of, uh, started drinking it black after we broke up. It was comforting.”

“I still have your college sweatshirt,” Tony admits. “It stopped smelling like you years ago, and it’s falling apart, but on my worst days it made me feel better.”

Steve picks up the mug of coffee on the side and takes a sip. “Guess we’re both as pathetic as each other,” he says, smiling at Tony over the rim of his mug.

“Rhodey would warn you against playing ‘who is more pathetic’ with me,” Tony says, leaning back against the counter. “I always win.”

Steve laughs. “Okay,” he says. “We won’t play that.”

“Do you want to watch a movie?”

“Actually, I’d rather keep talking,” Steve says. “If that’s okay with you.”

“Should I call my therapist? She does couples.”

“Not unless you feel you need to,” Steve raises an eyebrow. “What have you been doing since you got out? I know you said you retired, but—”

“I sent a year doing nothing but therapy and meetings,” Tony says. “There’s a lot I had to work through, and it was better for the company if I didn’t come back right away. But I kept inventing.”

“That sounds like you.”

Tony ducks his head, Steve’s comment warming something in his chest. “Thanks,” he says quietly. “I tried to go back to the tower, but—”

“Too many memories?”

“Yeah,” Tony says, looking up and taking a sip of coffee. “And too many people who knew where to find me, including all the people I didn’t want to see. Instead, I went back to Massachusetts, hunkered down in a small town and kept to myself for a year or so.”

“You didn’t want to stay there?”

Tony raises his MIT mug and shrugs. “Hard to get a fresh start somewhere you’ve been before,” Tony says, lowering his mug and drinking from it. “I got Rhodey to find me a place I didn’t know, somewhere quiet, and this is where he picked.”

“Tony, not that you can’t trust Rhodey, but—”

“You think he knew you were here?”

“It seems like a pretty big coincidence,” Steve says, raising an eyebrow. “From what I remember about Rhodey, he wouldn’t have you live somewhere he hadn’t thoroughly researched, and it’s not like I was hiding.”

“Yeah,” Tony says, tapping his fingers against his mug. “You know, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Is it a bad thing?”

“Not so far,” Tony says. “But I’m still sending him twenty of your calendars. For fun.”

“Tony—”

“It’s for a good cause, right?”

“As long as you know I’m not taking any responsibility for this,” Steve says, finishing his coffee. “At all.”

“Make it twenty one,” Tony says. “I want one for the shed.”

“The shed you might blow up?”

“Okay, when I say shed, I mean—” Tony pauses and puts his mug down. “Do you want to see it?”

Steve answers in the affirmative, and Tony leads Steve through the house towards the garden, startling slightly when Steve takes his hand. Walking to the structure at the end of the garden, Tony scans his eye and waits for the doors to slide open. The lights switch on as they walk inside, and Tony can’t help but watch Steve’s face as he takes it all in.

“Wow,” Steve says, squeezing Tony’s hand. “This is—wow.”

“Technology has been updated since you last saw my workshop,” Tony says. “But it’s still home.”

“You always were your best in here,” Steve says, still looking around. “I used to love—is that DUM-E?”

“What? Oh, yeah,” Tony says, wondering what it was Steve was going to say. “He’s charging, he’d be rolling over to say hi if he weren’t.”

“I’m glad you still have him.”

“Of course I do,” Tony says. “I don’t—I wouldn’t get rid of him. Ever. That’s not who I am. I thought you knew that, even given the way I was, I—”

“I’m sorry,” Steve interrupts. “Tony, I know that’s not who you are, please don’t think that I—” Steve pauses and shakes his head, a sad smile on his face. “You know, when I found you, that time in the bathroom, I’d never been so scared in my entire life.”

“You’re a firefighter,” Tony says dumbly. “That’s—”

“I know. You were convulsing so violently, I thought you were going to crack your head open, and—” Steve breaks off, his free hand coming up and touching Tony’s chin gently like he wants to make sure Tony’s actually there and alive. “All I could think was ‘I love him. He’s going to die in front of me, and I love him’.”

“And I told you to fuck off,” Tony whispers, remembering the sterile hospital room and Steve by his bed, looking exhausted. “I never wanted you to see me like that. I—I was embarrassed, and I knew what you were thinking.”

“What?” Steve says, his fingers soft against Tony’s cheek. “What did you think I was thinking?”

“That I was a fuck up. That I wasn’t worth your time. That I didn’t deserve you.” Tony looks down, avoiding Steve’s gaze. “That I don’t deserve you.”

“Tony, that’s never been true.”

“It’s—Steve, please—”

“Tony, look at me,” Steve says, his hand sliding to cup Tony’s cheek, but not forcing him to look up. “Do you think I would’ve spent the last eight years missing you if I thought that? If I’d ever thought that?”

“People have done stupider things,” Tony says, finally looking up and meeting Steve’s eyes. “It’s been a long time.”

“It has.”

“I’m different,” Tony says. “Better, I think. Trying to be, anyway. My life isn’t the same. I don’t go to parties, events. There’s no big business meetings. Occasionally I have to attend a product launch, but this, here, is about as exciting as my life gets now.”

“You know I never liked that side of your life anyway, Tony,” Steve says, bringing Tony’s hand up with his and kissing it. “There’s a million ways you could try and talk yourself out of this, and I get it, I really do. But I just want to know one thing.”

“What?”

“Do you still love me?”

Tony swallows around the lump in his throat as he looks at Steve, seeing the hopefulness in his expression, and the lines between his eyebrows giving away how nervous he is. There’s only ever going to be one answer Tony can give. “Yes,” he says, squeezing Steve’s hand. “Of course I do. I still love you, I’m still _in_ love with you. I never stopped.”

“Then why does anything else matter?”

“Because—” Tony pauses, all the excuses running through his mind. It’s been too long, they don’t know each other anymore, Tony’s barely set up his life here, Steve’s still carrying around the hurt from before, Tony’s still working on his recovery, and they’re good reasons. All of them. They make sense, and Tony knows why he should listen to them, why he should be wary of jumping into this, but—.

It’s Steve. And Tony’s never known how to walk away from Steve.

Giving in, Tony pushes up on his toes, closing the negligible gap between them and kissing Steve. It’s slow and soft, the kind of kiss that Tony’s missed, and he drops Steve’s hand in favour of holding onto Steve’s waist as tight as he dares. Neither of them go to deepen the kiss, to push this fragile moment into something more, and Tony finds himself wanting to cry because he never thought he’d have this kind of touch from anyone again, let alone Steve.

Tony doesn’t dare open his eyes when the kiss comes to a natural end, instead relishing in the feel of Steve’s hand on his face, letting out a sigh as Steve’s fingers brush over his lips.

“Hey,” Steve says, pressing a firm kiss against Tony’s forehead. “I’m still here. You can look.”

Huffing out a laugh, Tony opens his eyes to see Steve smiling at him like they’ve never been apart. Tapping his fingers against the curve of Steve’s hip, Tony sighs. “So,” he says. “Where do we go from here?”

“Forward,” Steve says, one hand pulling Tony closer. “We go forward.”

*

One day in September, Tony gets his three year chip with Steve in the room, smiling proudly from his seat, and the scent of burnt coffee and stale pastries in the air.

It’s his best day in recovery yet.

**Author's Note:**

> talk over overdosing and parental death


End file.
